Truth
by emeralddusk
Summary: It's the truth that our mothers wove. The true story. My time of sorrow


Truth

Eternal Requiem of Childhood Lost

_I was okay. I've been okay for a long time, and I thought it was something I was finally in control of. I thought that our family was in neutral. We were never perfect, and the only happiness we share is when certain people just don't bother with one another. We've all changed over the years. My brother and I used to be so close: we were always there for each other. We fucked up from time to time, but we were always together, especially when Mom and Dad were mad at us. We made mistakes, acted up, and got in trouble, but we always did our best to be good kids: good people. As time passed by, though, everything began to change from black and white to gray. I resented my mother for getting all my father's love, trust, and favoritism. For the longest time, though, I was his favorite._

_ The day after we finished kindergarten, Dad told us we were moving. I cried. The worst part was that I'd never get to say goodbye to my friends. I was scared, away from my classmates, and would be doing the unthinkable: leaving the house my brother and I grew up in. Over time, my dad apologized for the terrible situation he put us into…Turns out he did it on purpose, though. He told Mom he didn't want anyone to know: he never told my brother and I, though. So, we moved from our nice, quiet neighborhood in town to a whole new place in the middle of nowhere. I didn't think to blame him: even though he was the one who forced everyone, even Mom, to give up their lives to escape from the neighbors Dad became paranoid of. We moved on the first day of school, waking up so early, going on an hour drive, and starting school with complete strangers. Dad gave us bad advice that made for what was considered anti-social behavior: advice he lived by. We didn't have many friends, but my brother and I had each other. He got mad at me more and more over the years, though. He got so upset over everything I did, even when it didn't involve him. Yeah, I was a jerk sometimes, but that doesn't make the things he did okay: he'd hit me, lie to me, make fun of me. Still, I never thought to question it._

_ Middle school was a living hell. That was around the time Dad and I became enemies. His advice not only failed me, but seemed to change to the favor of those who hated me. He encouraged me to do stupid things, developed that hateful snarl in his voice, and became a source of pain. The kids hated me. They wanted to fight me. I said no. Then, on the last day of the year, I chose to stay at school with Dad instead of going home with Mom and my brother. I told Dad how the school assholes challenged me to a fight after school, and that I walked away and ignored their invitation. He got so mad at me: sent me outside, forcing me into the fight, though it never happened, spent most of the afternoon on the phone instead of talking to me, and put more and more ideas in my head: "Imagine what he's saying about you," he told me. I hate him for that. He stopped helping me when I was having problems with religion and beating myself up over everything: I went to therapy, he used what the doctor said against me in an attempt to define and judge me, assured me with all his heart and joy that my problems were my fault, and even stated when my brother and I fought that he was not trying to help._

_ Pretty soon, I stopped calling him Dad, stopped coming to him with my problems, and realized how much I truly valued my mother. She'd been so miserable for so long: all because of him. He forced her into feeling bad about her weight, said nasty things, made my brother and I afraid of the world, and perverted religion to restrict us. Pretty soon, my mother's husband was just like the bullies at school. I hated everything he'd become: tension grew. I started fighting back: it felt like he hated me for that. Dad and I aren't friends anymore._

_ Getting undressed in the living room: caught him staring at me, trying to hide behind the door. Walking through town during a fair: felt him slap me on the butt for no reason: wearing sick smile on his face. Making threats to me, telling me lies. Left the family around Christmas to live with a friend and see another woman. Came back to avoid dealing with her kids, used father-son time to read Mom's e-mails and blackmail her. Told us lies, made us miserable and confused. Picked at my interests, made snide comments, had teachers "watch me". Wish he never came back._

_ We fought so much: felt so much hatred coming out of him. He was an animal: a monster. He hated me, wanted to hurt me, made me distrust and dislike myself. Made me self-conscious. Told my secrets to others, embarrassed me at the dinner table, tormented me for being angry and upset with people who made me miserable. Felt fear, hatred. Felt sick, couldn't eat. Got sent to my room for hours and hours. He used me, tricked me. Got answers out of me by telling lies. HE LIES_

_ I hated myself for so long. Always felt bad for everything: Dad told me I was afraid of dying (I was just trying to help him see traffic), told me I was probably going to hell. He hated me for having religious problems. Couldn't go to confession: too hard on me, so much time, so many doubts, never felt forgiven. I was so afraid. I was so miserable. I cried. My mom cried, not wanting me to know. Said one day once I was better that "that wasn't my Austin." I cried._

_ Why can't he leave me alone? Why do I have to be afraid, angry, upset, and sick to my stomach in my own home? Tried to run away: no one seemed to care. Mom was the only one who bothered to make me feel better. Dad made cruel jokes: "he's not dumb enough to stay out that long." Not dumb __**enough**__: he hates me: acts like I'm his dumb ox. Only good for doing work. Not smart enough. Not good enough. Never attractive: made me shave, hurt my face, made me break out in sores on important dates, made fun of me, got so angry._

_ "I wish you two never met," I cry._

_ "But then you and your brother wouldn't be here," Mom replied. She always said my brother and I were some of the only good things in her life. Dad made her give up her friends, hobbies, made fun of her, like he made fun of me. Treated us like kids. Spread hatred. Made us afraid. Broke our family. No one fought back. Whenever I tried to stand up for myself, no one helped me: I got sent to my room for hours, lost allowance, got talked to coldly and angrily. I felt alone: didn't want to leave school or work: did not want to go home. A kid should never feel like this._

_ He makes it so hard to argue: twists things, tells lies, manipulates me, makes me feel like the bad guy. I hate him because he hated me first._

_ Friends turn on me. I feel alone alot. Why does everyone have to hate me? What did I do to deserve a life like this? Why are people always the same? Why do I keep giving them chances? Why do they want so badly to hurt me? Why did he yell at me when I was in bed? Why did he make me lose sleep? Stop me from eating? Ruin parties? Made us all miserable? How could he? How could my friends betray me? Why can't I trust anyone? Why does everyone abandon me? Even my brother hates me. All I have is Mom, Ally, and Dez._

I spent so much time suffering, being hated, and being alone.

_Crying after getting out of the shower. Remembering my pain. Taking comfort in childish things. Still afraid in my own house. Remember Toki from Metalocalypse: "I spent so many days in my childhoods years in the punishments hole. But whats my parents didn't knows: thats I hads a friends with me," the man said, remembering his childhood self brushing away the hay in the punishment pit and revealing a hay and straw doll of a clown: his hero. The image of the Rock N' Roll clown. "A friends who listens to me…and kepts me safe. As long as my friends was there, nobodies could hurts me." Dancing with the doll, Toki looked into the smiling face: "C-c-I loooove you," the doll gently, happily declared. "I loves you too, clowns," Toki warmly replied, holding his friend close to his heart in a loving hug. His eyes were closed. _

_His friend didn't care about the scars on his back. His friend would never leave him: their friendship was real, and real friends will never abandon you like my friends did. Now I'm crying, and I feel so alone. I just want to lay down all alone and cry and cry and cry and never have to stop or come out. To be safe: safe from all that hunts me down. This is the truth. Read it if you want: I don't really care._

Setting down Austin's diary, Ally looked off into space, her eyes blurring over with tears. "I love you, Austin," she whispered, knowing Austin wasn't around to hear her. He would be coming home soon, though…maybe.


End file.
